


SHUTTER

by succubusybody



Category: Star Wars - All Media Types, Star Wars Sequel Trilogy
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Complete, Creepy Ben Solo, Doggy Style, Dubious Consent, Extremely Dubious Consent, F/M, Financial manipulation, Inappropriate touching, Naked Female Clothed Male, One Shot, Premature Ejaculation, Smut, Unsafe Sex, if that’s a thing
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-12-25
Updated: 2018-12-25
Packaged: 2019-09-27 03:56:08
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,496
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17154845
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/succubusybody/pseuds/succubusybody
Summary: Rey Niima needs cash, so she answers a model call for an artsy nude photo shoot. Things quickly get out of hand when the photographer continues to push her boundaries.





	SHUTTER

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Alsterwasser](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Alsterwasser/gifts).



> Merry Christmas ya filthy animals part TWO

Rey stares at herself in the bathroom mirror, trying to work up the nerve to ditch the fluffy robe and walk naked into the bedroom in front of a man she’d only just met for the first time.

She’s never modeled before, let alone done anything nude. The idea of meeting him in a hotel made her nervous, but Rose had done some digging online and he looked legitimate - had a whole portfolio full of artsy black and white pictures.

Plus, he was willing to pay a model well, and meeting in a hotel was probably way safer than if he had suggested they shoot in his basement or something. At least here people could hear her scream for help if he turned out to be a psycho killer or something like that. Not that she expected it. If his models all mysteriously disappeared, surely someone would have left a negative review about that on the Ben Solo Photography Facebook page.

Taking a deep breath, she shrugs out of the robe and leaves it on the floor, turning the door handle before she has a chance to talk herself out of it.

He’s adjusting something on his camera for a moment, leaving her standing there awkwardly, toes curling into the carpet as she waits to be noticed. But then he looks up, adjusts his glasses and smiles, and it instantly puts her at ease, even if it feels weird being totally naked when he’s completely clothed.

“So you’ve never done this before, have you?” It’s hard to tell if he’s talking about modelling at all or modelling nude, but the answer to both is no, so she shakes her head. He waves and shakes his head. “It’ll be fine. I’ll guide you.”

She’s still nervous, but it helps. He seems like he knows what he’s doing, so she’ll just listen and it’ll all work out alright in the end. The model call hadn’t said anything about experience necessary.

Clapping his hands together, he points to the bed. “So, um, I think it would be best if we start there. Do you want to take a seat?”

It’s a bit weird to her how he phrases that as a question, but if that’s the way he gives direction… who is she to say no? The mattress caves beneath her weight, the comforter soft beneath her skin, and he gives her a few more nervous, half-assed directions: put your hand over your head, lean to the left more, little stuff like that. Rey hears the whirring of the shutter a few times, and then… nothing.

“Would it be okay if I touched you?” His voice is closer than it had been before, and she startles easily, drawing a string of apologies from him before he continues. “It’s just a lot easier for me to position you myself instead of trying to tell you my exact vision, you know?”

She turns to look over her shoulder up at him. That makes sense, she supposes. Especially when he seems so unsure. Maybe it’ll be faster this way. “Yeah.” She offers him a small smile and nods. “That’s fine.”

Even with her permission, he touches her like he’s afraid to, shifting her legs to drape over one another in a pretty way before pulling her elbow up higher. He’s right, though: this is a lot easier than trying to guess what he means by ‘just a little higher.’

He takes a few more pictures that way before asking her to turn around and face him. They go through the same routine: he moves her legs carefully, one by one, and then places each of her hands where he wants them. More photos. This isn’t so bad, she thinks. She has no idea how long they’ll be here for, but this isn’t very _hard_ work for $800. That’s this months rent for… almost nothing. The hardest part is laughing at his awkward dad jokes when he cracks them, and she can manage that - she’s waitressed for years. 

After a few more pictures, he pushes her head to the side with a gentle thumb on her chin. She waits for another picture, but he doesn’t take one.

“I’m just going to…” She expects him to move her again, so she tries to stay still, not wanting to be posed all over again - when she feels his fingers brush her nipples, she jumps back, brows furrowed and arms crossing over her chest as her head snaps to look at him in disbelief.

“Sorry!” The apology is instant, and, from what she can tell, genuine. Still, she can’t wipe the look of _what the fuck?_ off her face. “I forgot that you’re new to this.” His words all rush together, his face turning red. “Your body just reacts better when you’re not the one touching it, and I need your nipples to be, uh…” He can’t seem to find the word, but clenches his fist.

That makes sense, she thinks. Probably. He knows what he’s going for, after all, and she doesn’t; he’s the only one that can bring his vision to life. She forces a smile, trying to calm down, and uncrosses her arms.

He repositions her and gets the shot in a few clicks. They do a few more poses in a mostly-awkward silence, aside from when he tries to lighten the mood by cracking another lame joke.

“Okay!” He sets his camera down on the bed and crouches in front of her, resting his elbows on his knees. “So for this next shot, I really want your, uh, your labia to glisten.” He blushes, which makes her blush, too. Jesus Christ. “And I think the most authentic way to make that happen is for me to touch you. It’d be strictly professional. Is that okay?”

It isn’t, but she doesn’t feel like that’s the right answer. In food photography, didn’t they have all those tricks? Couldn’t she just smear some vaseline on her cunt and call it a day? Still, if authenticity is his thing… it’ll only be weird if she makes it weird, she figures.

Rey nods.

“Great! Just scoot to the center of the bed and lie back with your knees bent.” Once she does, he’s fretting over her: pulling her legs apart centimeter by centimeter, checking each time to see if it looks how he imagines; sliding a hand beneath her lower back and lifting until her spine is arched just right; tilting her head to the side and rearranging her hair to fan out around her face.

“I’m going to go ahead and, you know, touch you now. Don’t be surprised.”

“Okay.”

She stares up at the ceiling and tries to brace herself; soon enough, his touch is there. It’s oddly clinical, having precisely one part of her body touched, like she’s at a doctor’s office. He’s uncertain and careful as he massages her outer folds, and when she dares to glance down, his face is one of pure concentration.

He doesn’t even notice her looking at him.

Maybe she was just being silly, being worried about this; he’s clearly very passionate about his art. His fingers brush a sensitive patch of skin and her back arches more.

“Sorry,” she mumbles, feeling a little embarrassed - even if this was the goal. “You’ll have to pose me again.”

“That’s alright.” She thinks that she hears a smile in his voice but can’t bring herself to look at him. He keeps brushing against that same spot. “You’re doing great. A natural.”

Once he’s satisfied, he stands up, moving to the side of the bed to pose her again. His fingers are slick as he wraps them around one of her wrists and she tries not to blush again. She could swear that his fingers trail along her thigh, but his touch lingers just a second too little for her to be able to be sure.

Probably just an accident.

He seems a little more confident this round, his directions less of a question and more of a command. He tells her where to look, where to put her hands, even what emotions to portray.

It’s easier this way. It’s weird, given how shy he was not even fifteen minutes before, but it’s easier. Maybe that means this will be over faster, she thinks.

“Can you roll over and get on all fours for me?” And just like that, they’re back to uncertain-Ben. Nervous-Ben. She isn’t sure what’s causing the switch, but she rolls over anyway. Not long after, the bed caves behind her with his weight and she frowns.

“Just a couple of things,” he murmurs, low enough that she’s not sure he’s even talking to her. He presses down between her shoulder blades until her back arches, and then… nothing. She’s just about to turn around to see what he’s doing when - _crack!_ \- his hand comes down hard on her ass. Her jaw drops in disbelief. _Crack!_ One on the other side. 

“What the fuck are you _doing_?” She shoots a glare over her shoulder, and he actually looks surprised at her reaction. 

“I’m sorry!” He holds his hands up, eyes wide. “That’s normal! It gets the blood circulating a little better and makes your cheeks rosy.” She watches his Adam’s apple bob as he swallows hard, rubbing his beard. “I should have warned you. But nothing else will hurt, I promise.” 

His promise doesn’t really do much, but it’s better than nothing and his explanation makes sense. Silently, she turns to face forward again. He uses a light touch to get her into the position he wants. 

“So I’m going to have to touch you again.” His voice rises at the end, like he’s asking a question; she doesn’t say anything. “It’s just hard to photograph pleasure when the model isn’t feeling any. If you ever do another shoot, you’ll see… other photographers can probably explain it better than I can.” 

The more that he says what he does is normal, the less she’s starting to believe it; she thinks she hears a zipper and she’s confused until she feels him prodding against her entrance. Rey’s eyes widen and her hips buck forward. 

“It’s okay!” He grabs the spot where her thigh hinges into her waist. “Isn’t it? If it’s not, we can just cancel the shoot.” 

Even though he asks, he doesn’t wait for an answer before he starts guiding himself in. It’s not okay - and she’s pretty sure he isn’t wearing a condom - but the way he said _cancel the shoot_ makes her nervous. 

“If we cancel the shoot, would I still get paid?” 

He pauses. “Well, not all of it, because didn’t complete the project. I’d pay you maybe $100 for what we’ve done so far, though.” 

She stares at the headboard, not even needing to crunch the numbers to know that won’t work. She’s depending on that cash: it’d cover this month’s rent, put gas in her car and give her maybe a week and a half of groceries. One hundred dollars wouldn’t even do half of that. 

When she doesn’t say anything further, he bottoms out with a muffled groan. The camera shutter whirrs. It doesn’t hurt, but it feels dirty. Rey feels that she _must_ appear uncomfortable, but he doesn’t seem to notice. 

This can’t be normal, though. There’s no way this is how each artsy nude shoot ends: with the sound of the photographer grunting and skin slapping skin. 

If he planned this, she thinks, at least he had the decency to get her warmed up first. This would have been a lot worse if she’d been bone-dry. She’s too uncomfortable with the situation to come anything close to _enjoying_ it, but she’ll settle for not being in pain. 

Her skin crawls each time he snaps a picture. Could be worse, she figures - he could be taking a video. 

It doesn’t last long at all; it might’ve been five minutes before he tosses the camera down, gripping her waist with both hands, crying out to God and wailing in an embarrassing way. 

Ben cums inside her without asking. Her nose wrinkles. 

After he pulls out, she turns over her shoulder to see him sitting at the foot of the bed, his back to her, jeans still hanging around his thighs. When he doesn’t say anything, she rolls off the bed and goes to the bathroom, ready to get every last drop of him out of her. 

She doesn’t know how long she’s in there; she tries not to think as she sits on the toilet, because if she does, she’ll start thinking about how weird she feels. Without a doubt. By the time she opens the door, though, he’s buttoned up again and ready for her. He holds out a wad of cash. 

“I was just looking through everything. You were really great.” He smiles. Rey doesn’t. “So, um, anyway, here’s your payment. I’ll send the proofs to your email.” 

She takes the money, staring down as she thumbs through it because it’s better than looking at him. “That’s okay,” she mumbles. “I don’t need any.” 

Now she _knows_ she seems uncomfortable - something is clearly wrong. He must be willfully ignoring it. She doesn’t like that. 

“Well, alright then. Thanks for your time today, Rey. I think you might be one of my favorite models to work with.” Yeah, she bets she is. “Next time I need a model, um, I’ll drop you a line to see if you’re free.” 

She doesn’t say anything… just looks up and stares blankly. He searches her face for something - she’s not sure what - before giving a small, awkward wave. 

“Thanks again. Just return to room key to the desk when you leave.” 

And just like that, he’s gone, along with her dignity. She probably should have stopped it, but she’s never held this many hundred dollar bills at once before. Maybe next time he emails, she’ll just be more up front about her boundaries. 

Tugging on her clothes, she pockets the cash and heads down to the lobby. Rey thinks that the desk clerk gives her a weird look, but decides she’s just being paranoid. 

Once she’s outside, she calls Rose. It rings twice before her friend picks up. 

“Can you come pick me up outside the hotel?” She tries to force a smile into her voice. If she sounds like something’s wrong, Rose will ask questions, and she doesn’t want to talk about it. 

“Yeah! I’ll head to the car.” There’s a pause, and she can hear the jingling of keys on the other end of the line. “Did it go alright?” 

It’s hard to pick an answer that doesn’t seem suspicious, but won’t prompt a whole conversation, either. 

“Yeah, it was fine. Hey, have you got anything else going on today?” 

“No, why?” 

Because, she thinks, I’m trying to change the subject. But she can’t say that, so she makes something up. 


End file.
